


Refuge

by torino10154



Series: Gift Drabbles & Ficlets 2019 [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Canon Compliant, Ficlet, Gen, Gen Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 15:11:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19253713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torino10154/pseuds/torino10154
Summary: The third of my gift drabbles.nocturnus33asked for (among other options) "Severus/Percy: Outcast; protection."





	Refuge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nocturnus33 (nocturnus)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnus/gifts).



> The third of my gift drabbles. **nocturnus33** asked for (among other options) "Severus/Percy: Outcast; protection."

Percy finishes washing up after supper with the charms he's learned from his mother—his heart aches for a moment at the thought of her. She's the only one he's truly missed since this _situation_ developed.

He shakes it off. What he's done is right. His family is easily... misled. 

He takes his evening cup of tea to the chair by the fire. His choices tonight are reviewing a stack of files for the minister or reading the next three chapters in a novel that has yet to draw him in. 

He picks up the book. He'll allow the author one more chance to convince him to follow through to the end.

There's a knock at his door. 

Percy blinks and looks at his wristwatch—a gift from Cornelius Fudge when Percy was promoted to undersecretary. A pity he was forced out, though Rufus Scrimgeour is a no-nonsense sort of man. The Ministry could use someone with backbone in these dark days.

Another knock, louder now.

Perhaps his mother?

He shakes his head and stands. The last time he'd seen her, he'd said things that, well, he didn't think she was ready to forgive just yet.

He opens the door just a crack and sees only darkness. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust and he gasps when he recognises the face largely hidden beneath the hood of a heavy travelling cloak.

"Professor," he manages and steps back to allow the man in. Though Percy is familiar with the many tales that surround the Potions master, he personally never had any trouble with him while at Hogwarts.

Perhaps because he'd been taken his studies seriously, unlike others he could name. 

"My apologies for arriving unannounced," Snape says as he shuts the door, then warding it for good measure. 

Percy's heart pounds. Something is clearly wrong though he's heard no news from the Ministry. 

Snape shrugs out of his cloak and hangs it next to Percy's as if this wasn't the first time he'd found himself in Percy's flat. Percy doesn't even know quite how Snape found him but oddly isn't concerned about his own safety.

"Is there trouble at Hogwarts?" Percy asks, hoping he sounds calmer than he feels. 

Snape finally turns to face him. He seems to have aged ten years though it's been far fewer since Percy'd seen him last. His skin is paler, his eyes as if bruised purple, his hair unkempt.

"I find myself unwelcome within the castle walls." Snape studies him for a moment though Percy feels no brush of Legilimency. "I thought you might understand."

Percy does. He knows what it's like to be outcast from his home, to have eyes on him that judge his motivations, question his decisions. 

"Would you care for a cup of tea, Professor?" Percy asks and doesn't fail to notice the way Snape relaxes, the tension bleeding out of his body.

"Thank you."

~*~

Snape is gone before Percy rises though he's not surprised. He's not sure he didn't dream the whole thing, honestly.

The tap of an owl's beak at the window indicates the arrival of the morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_. Percy puts the kettle on and opens the window, taking the _Prophet_ and giving the owl a treat before it departs.

The headline stops his heart.

**DUMBLEDORE DEAD. SNAPE ACCUSED.**

Percy sinks into his chair, every word on the page more stunning than the last.

The kettle whistles shrilly, an unending cry like a banshee, but Percy doesn't hear it over the screaming inside his head. 

At some point he begins to breathe again. 

He needs to be at work at nine sharp for a meeting with the minister. He won't mention his overnight guest, though, he doubts anyone would think to ask. 

Who could fathom a Death Eater, a murderer, seeking protection from a Ministry employee? 

Percy's hands barely tremble as he pours himself a cup of tea.


End file.
